


A Mishap Under The Mistletoe

by jujubiest



Series: Barry Loves Harry [8]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Age Difference, Flustered Barry, Jealous Harry, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Mischievous Len, Mistletoe, ugly sweater party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 11:01:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jujubiest/pseuds/jujubiest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from mediocre-writing: I realize as I write this, you likely have the next part completed, but all I can think about/want is Leonard and Barry caught under the mistletoe and a jealous/petulant Harrison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Mishap Under The Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mediocre-writing (elleavantemm)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elleavantemm/gifts).



> Tagged for age difference because everyone Barry is kissing is old enough to be his father. Tagged for mildly dubious consent because Barry wasn't really intending to kiss one of these people.

Iris’s party was, against all odds, a huge success. Barry sat back against the couch cushions, looking around the room and beaming happily. Joe, his dad, Iris, Eddie, the team, Linda, Patty, Harry, his favorite trio of rogues…all the people he cared about most, safe and in one place, enjoying themselves and getting along. Even the ones who would usually be at each other’s throats.

He couldn’t have asked for anything better than this for Christmas.

Iris swiveled around to look at him, her eyes alight with a joy he hadn’t seen in months.

“Barry,” she said, her voice blurry with alcohol and half-full of laughter, “can you get our dads refills? I kind of don’t want to move from this spot.”

“Can’t say I blame you,” he said, still grinning, and got up. He grabbed the two empty mugs from their respective owners and headed to the kitchen, humming slightly.

He turned the corner and nearly ran into Len, who was traveling back to the living room in the other direction, a mug of hot cocoa in one hand.

“Woah, Barry,” he drawled, pressing his other hand to his chest to stop him before they collided. “Careful. If you make me spill my drink all over the carpet, I might not get invited back.

His voice was lighter than usual, teasing, and there was a curl to the corner of his mouth that might almost have been a real smile. In his current mood, Barry found himself returning it without hesitation.

“Uh-ohhhhh,” came a trilling voice from the direction of the couch. “Looks like you guys stepped into one of Iris’s traps!”

Someone made a sputtering, coughing noise behind him, and Barry didn’t have to look to know it came from Harrison. He looked up at the same time as Len, and saw to his dismay that sure enough, a little bunch of mistletoe was hanging from the beam above their heads, tied together with a silver ribbon.

Barry turned his gaze forward to find Len staring at him appraisingly, his small smile growing and turning wicked. He could swear he saw those arctic-blue eyes flick behind him, to where he knew Harrison was still seated. But a second later they were back on him, and he felt rooted to the spot beneath the weight of that gaze.

The room around them was suddenly very quiet. Barry could feel them all watching, waiting to see what would happen. He was a second away from stepping past Len, planning to laugh it off, when a large hand grasped the back of his neck and pulled him in.

The kiss was soft despite its abruptness, and unexpectedly sweet. And _lingering_. The hand at his neck relaxed its grip, sliding up into his hair, and when Len’s lips moved against his, Barry’s—to his inner horror—moved with them as if by instinct, too caught off guard in the moment to do anything else. Someone—probably Lisa—wolf-whistled at his back.

He was the one to finally pull away, face flushed and mouth tingling. He blinked stupidly at Len, who, he was disconcerted to see, looked as dazed as he felt. Barry could feel eyes boring into his back, and no way was he going to turn around and face Harry when he was still blushing and breathless from kissing _Captain Cold._

Lacking other options, he fled into the kitchen. He heard the party gradually start up in the living room, and thankfully Len didn’t follow him. He dropped the mugs in the sink and leaned against the counter, taking deep breaths. Reaching to the side, he grabbed the nearest open bottle and downed a shot without looking to see what it was, purely to chase the taste of Len from his lips.

A moment later, he felt someone behind him, and turned to find Harrison standing there. Barry wasn’t sure how to decipher the look he was giving him, but he felt the heat creeping up his neck again, and he started to squirm under those piercing eyes.

“Harry,” he forced out, unable to look at him directly. “I’m so sorr—mmph!”

The end of his sentence was lost in Harrison’s mouth. He sank into it, studiously not examining how this kiss was similar to or different from the one he’d just been given. Still, he couldn’t completely ignore the hard edge to the way Harrison held onto him, or the desperation in the little noise he made when they pried themselves apart.

He stared at Harrison, searching for the meaning behind his furrowed brow, the way his eyes dropped from Barry’s to focus somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. His touch on Barry’s arms was light now, tentative, like he might draw back at any moment...and something about that swept the thought of Len away completely.

“Hey, Harry…look at me. Please?” Harrison looked up, albeit reluctantly.

“You know that was just a stupid tradition, right? It didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t even gonna go through with it, but then he—”

Harrison chuckled darkly, a morose noise that ended in a sigh.

“I know, Barry. I saw. But I would understand, if…” He trailed off, seemingly unwilling to finish the thought.

“If what? If I wanted to ditch you to run off with the king of the rogues?” Barry laughed. “Trust me, Harry…you don’t have to worry. Len is…a friend. Sometimes. Kind of. And I’ll admit, he caught me off guard. But you?”

Harrison’s mouth twitched.

“Me?” It was a real question, despite his teasing tone. Barry wasn’t having that; he didn’t want this ridiculous night to become a _thing_ between them, something else for Harrison to worry about when he was alone with his thoughts. He reached up and took Harrison’s face in his hands, looking him in the eyes and trying to put as much feeling into his next words as possible.

“Yes, you. I _love_ you.”

He saw Harrison tense, eyes widening in obvious surprise. He wasn’t a man of many words on his best day, but at the moment he seemed absolutely speechless.

Barry didn’t care. He said it because it was true, not because he needed to hear it said back. He grinned at the dumbfounded look on Harrison’s face and pulled him in for another kiss, one not tainted by desperation or distraction.

They were so wrapped up in each other that they didn’t even hear it when Joe walked in, stopped, and stared wide-eyed at them for a moment before retreating back to the living room without a word.


End file.
